The Countless
by Keyta
Summary: How do I survive 7 months of hiatus for my favorite show? Tell how I think season three should go. This story starts immediately following the ending of the season two finale, so if you haven't seen it yet walk away. Nothing is altered from the show. I will explore relationships that are not yet canon (but in my opinion should be) and some of the relationships that are canon.
1. Self-Condemnation

Clarke kept her back to camp as she walked towards the woods, she knew if she glanced behind her and caught Bellamy giving her that look she would turn back. She'd walked away from him too many times to count now. She still felt guilty about sending him into Mount Weather alone, without so much as a "be safe". Lexa had convinced her that caring for others was a fault, Clarke realized now how idiotic that notion had been. Putting on a tough face and putting the people she loved the most in danger had done nothing but hurt her in the end. She tried to ignore the feeling of Bellamy's eyes on her back.

She stared at her feet as she walked and counted the twigs she stepped on. She wasn't going to think about Mount Weather, she wasn't going to think about the bodies that would never be buried, she wasn't going to think about the children that had become unexpected casualties, she wasn't going to think about the people who had helped hers, whom she'd thanked by sucking the air from their lungs, she wasn't going to think about Maya, she wasn't going to think about President Wallace. _Stop it_. She shook herself and the thoughts from her head.

She'd counted 147 twigs on the ground before her feet stopped propelling her forward. She looked around, wondering where she'd wound up.

"Of course," She muttered to herself with a shake of her head. Her feet had led her straight to the bunker Finn had found, the "Art Store", he'd called it. _At least there's a bed_, she thought to herself. She moved towards the door, she could sleep there for the night. Her hand froze as she touched the handle. She had forgotten about the body of the grounder that lay inside of it, the one Finn had killed while he was trying to find her, the grounded that had tricked him into killing 18 other people. That blood was on Clarke's hands, just like the rest of it was.

Her breath started to come in quicker spurts and her heart started to pound so hard she could feel it in her head. Clarke yanked her hand from the door and clutched it to her chest. She would've collapsed if it hadn't been for her adrenaline kicking in. She turned and ran faster than she ever had, faster than she thought she could. She ran until her vision started to blur and her legs gave out. She landed on the hard ground with a thud, the grass providing little cushion.

Clarke put her shaking hands over her face, and finally let the sobs roll from her body. She cried over Finn and Wells, she cried over the rest of the 100 that she hadn't been able to protect, she cried over the villagers at Tondc that she had sacrificed so the mountain men wouldn't find out about Bellamy, and she cried over the innocent lives that had been lost when she pulled that lever in Mount Weather.

After what seemed like hours Clarke managed to sit up. Her panic had subsided, but she didn't feel much better. It was starting to get dark and she needed to get some place safe. She didn't have to fear the mountain men anymore and she doubted grounders would cause her a problem, still, there were the reapers and if the gorilla and black leopard had been any indication of the wildlife in this area Clarke wanted to be surrounded by sturdy walls and a door.

She managed to stand and got her bearings. The setting sun had turned the world a deep shade of orange, but she recognized her surroundings. She was near the drop ship. Ideal for her to be pretty well protected, but if anyone had thought to follow her they would search for her there first. The drop ship was out of the question. Clarke took a moment to think, looking straight into the setting sun she took a few deep breaths. She still hadn't gotten over the sweet smell of the air, real air, not the recycled, metallic smelling air they had on the Arc.

The sunset created shadows and the shadows produced a ghost. Clarke blinked, she was sure she saw Wells, but there was no one. Still, it gave her an idea. Clarke knew a place where she could sleep for the night, a place where the only other people who knew about it were dead.


	2. Friendly Encouragement

"You just let her leave?" Bellamy had tried to go straight inside what was left of the Arc, but he was not going to get the time to be alone, he didn't even make it to the doorway. He sighed and turned to face Raven, her expression was fierce and her words were clipped. She wasn't alone. Wick was still carrying her. How she looked and sounded so fearless when she was literally being carried and had just had bone marrow stolen from her Bellamy would never understand.

Octavia stood defiantly as ever beside her. Bellamy let himself wonder how his sister, who had never seen the outside of their compartment until she was 16, had become a warrior. She had blood on her cheek, and though he knew it wasn't hers it still made him uncomfortable. Lincoln stood devotedly behind her.

"She could get hurt." He hadn't seen Monty at first. His soft voice was even lower than usual. He had a gray cardigan wrapped tightly around himself, though if his body language was any indication it was doing little to comfort him. Monty only met his eyes for a second before casting them downward, but Bellamy caught the all too familiar look of regret in Monty's eyes. He made a mental note to talk to him soon about what happened._ What did happen?_ Bellamy thought to himself. He hadn't really had the time to process what all happened at Mount Weather yet. He didn't know if he would ever be able to.

"Nothing is going to hurt Clarke," When Octavia spoke it brought Bellamy back from his thoughts. Her voice had a gravely sound to it now, completely different from the soft, innocent way she spoke just a few months ago, before they were sent to the ground. Bellamy knew Clarke could handle herself, if he didn't believe that there is no way he would've let her walk out into the woods alone. "She'll do all the damage to herself." Bellamy wasn't expecting those words. He also wasn't expecting the fear that hit him suddenly. Octavia was looking at him expectantly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"She just needs to be alone for a while," Bellamy heard himself say. "We've all been through a lot." _This is how she copes_, Bellamy reminded himself. "I'll leave her alone for tonight and I'll go looking for her tomorrow." He tried not to let on how much what Octavia said was bothering him. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying any more. _Clarke would be okay for one nigh_t. He was sure, well, pretty sure. As long as she found a safe place to sleep, the drop ship maybe, it's where he'd have gone.

"What if you can't find her?" Lincoln finally spoke and by the tone of his voice he was mildly annoyed.

"I will," Bellamy hoped he was reassuring the others, but truthfully it didn't make him feel much better.

"What if you don't?" Lincoln asked again, stepping around Octavia and moving forward until he was only a foot away from Bellamy. "What if she's already long gone? What if someone or something else finds her before you can?" His voice rose slightly and Bellamy raised his back in defense.

"What the hell are you trying to prove? Clarke isn't some damsel in distress." He glares at Lincoln. "She's strong. She can handle being out there for one night." Lincoln's irritation gets the better of him and he grabs Bellamy by the collar of his borrowed shirt.

"Lincoln!" Octavia scolds him, but doesn't move to intervene.

"If Octavia were that upset I wouldn't let her out of my _sight_," Lincoln's grip tightens on the shirt. "Yes, Clarke is strong, and she can handle herself, but not in the state her mind is in." He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in. "She isn't thinking straight, she probably isn't paying near as much attention as she should." He releases Bellamy's shirt. "She needs someone to watch out for her." Lincoln's eyes burn into his. "She needs you."

Lincoln's words set off alarms in Bellamy's head. If he hadn't processed everything that happened in Mount Weather then Clarke hadn't either. He cursed internally, irritated at himself for not fighting harder to get her to stay. Bellamy tightened his grip on the strap of the gun that was still over his shoulder. The sun was starting to set but he had enough light he could probably find Clarke if he left soon. He hadn't taken Earth Skills in several years, but he could handle basic tracking. _She couldn't have gone far._

Everyone stared at him, waiting to see what he'd do. Bellamy nodded his thanks and stepped around the others. On his way out Bellamy grabbed an empty pack, a bottle of water, four packs of food, and a flashlight and spare battery. If it got dark before he found her he would need it. He left camp without another word to anyone and went to find Clarke.


	3. Lifeless

The vehicle provided more than enough security for Clarke, it was halfway buried in the ground and the steel seemed sturdy. It'd survived a nuclear apocalypse, she'd be safe for the night. It wasn't very spacious, but it had a lot more room now that she was alone. She could almost feel Finn and Wells in the small space with her. Clarke had told Wells to step out into the acid fog and die that night. Now that she knew the truth about who had gotten her father killed she felt absolutely awful about it. Wells had forgiven her before Charlotte had killed him, but it still bothered her that she'd hated him for so long for something he'd never done.

Clarke kept her mind focused on making her temporary home more comfortable. She pulled the pieces of cloth from the cracks in the car that had needed sealing when the acid fog had threatened to poison her and her friends. She didn't need to worry about the acid fog anymore, the mountain men were all dead. Her grip tightened on the thin red sheet, could she go 5 minutes without thinking about the people she'd killed?

Clarke went back to work, taking her anger out on the front seat. The rusted metal was fairly easy to bend and she broke the cushion free. She laid it down in the back of the car before pulling the other one free and lining them up to make what could pass for a bed. Clarke laid down with her head under the window. The dust had mostly been wiped away so she could see a few stars. She tried to ignore the handprint so perfectly preserved against the glass, Finn's handprint. Clarke covered herself with the cloth.

Tears threated to start spilling again, but Clarke was tired of crying. She'd done more than enough of that today. Clarke tried to keep her mind blank, hoping exhaustion would win out over guilt, but her demons didn't let her rest. Faces of the dead that she could put names to came first, it started from the beginning.

Her father appeared first, it was the memory of the last time she'd seen him, when he was being floated. Next were the two boys that tried to follow Finn's lead and "space-walk", Clarke never even knew their names. Wells appeared with a slit throat and missing fingers. Atom followed, his flesh burned and eyes white in the irises, her knife in his throat. She was forced to watch Charlotte fling herself off of a cliff once again. Fox, with her bone marrow completed drained; Cage had thrown her into the trash. She thought of the rest of her people as well, the people who died from the sickness, those that the grounders had killed, the few that had just disappeared, and the people they lost in the battle with the grounders at the dropship. Maya and Dante came to her mind as well. Clarke didn't like the thought of shooting an elderly man, but she thought she could get Cage to release her people, she'd been desperate. She felt worse about Maya, the girl who she had attacked at first sight, the girl who Jasper had seemed to fall in love with, the one who tried so hard to keep Clarke's people safe when she couldn't, the girl who'd helped Bellamy.

When Clarke's mind couldn't summon any more ghosts she thought she'd finally be able to sleep, but next came the faceless. The countless deaths on Clarke's hands, names of those that she would never know. First were the eighteen grounders Finn had shot when he was trying to find her. Clarke's mind reminded her of the ninetieth grounder in the bunker. Clarke remembered it well, even the echo of gunfire seemed like it was happening that moment. _Anya_. Clarke's mind chided, how had she forgotten Anya? Anya's death was gruesome in her mind. They'd both been covered in mud, bruises, cuts, and blood. She had watched the life fade from Anya's eyes after she'd been shot by the people from the arc. _The girl and the grounder with the bad knee, too_. She had tried to save the girl who had only gotten hurt because they had blown the bridge, but she hadn't been able to do anything. The girl had looked like she was only ten years old or so. She'd killed the grounder to escape and save Finn. Then there were the 300 grounder warriors that had been burned alive at Clarke's command. Those bodies had been blackened beyond recognition. The mountain men were the hardest to think about, mainly because a lot of those people were innocent. Children and people who'd helped her own. The death they suffered wasn't a quick or painless one. Clarke wondered what it would be like to choke to death on poisoned air while your skin boiled.

Clarke's mind ran out of demons and exhaustion finally won out, blessedly she didn't dream.


	4. The Aftermath

Octavia sighed, partly from frustration and partly from relief. They had survived the attack on Mount Weather, albeit with battle scars and far more casualties than anyone had wanted, but they'd only lost a few. Fox and the rest of the 100 that had died while having their bone marrow harvested had been carried back to the camp. Their families and friends that had survived the ark falling to the ground were mourning them over fresh graves.

She watched Wick carry Raven off around the corner, but Monty didn't move. He glanced around from a moment, unsure what to do with himself.

"Jasper will forgive you." Octavia wasn't sure what else to say, so she helped that small statement would offer Monty some comfort. He didn't say anything, but he did meet her eyes. The guilt was written all over his face. Clarke and Bellamy may have been the ones to pull the lever, but Monty had made all those deaths possible, he figured out how to reverse the fans and bring in the toxic air. Monty turned away and went down the opposite hallway. She wasn't sure where it led to.

Octavia turned to ask Lincoln why he'd felt the need to grab her brother by the collar, but he'd slipped away. She sighed again, she wanted to wash the blood off of her face and sleep for a solid twelve hours, but she went in search of Lincoln instead.

On her way she nearly ran into Harper, the girl looked exhausted. Her eyes seemed sunken in and the bags under her eyes were dark. She had cuts on her face and blood on her hands, but she offered Octavia a small smile.

"Hey, have you seen Monty?" Octavia nodded.

"He's in the ark and he went down a hallway on the right." Harper nodded her thanks and walked past her. Octavia continued her search for Lincoln.

She found him near the fence, facing the spot where Clarke had stabbed Finn. Evidence of the grounder army was still there. What used to be grass was now mud, created by the steps of 1000 warriors, and the post they'd carved and tied Finn to was still there, the blood stain still visible even in the fading sunlight. Lincoln, who was always alert, didn't notice her approach. Octavia stood, easily in his peripheral, and waited for him to see her. She watched as his gaze fell from the spot of Finn's death to his right hand. It trembled as he tried to flex his fingers. She stepped forward, but he didn't seem to notice until she was only three feet away.

"I needed a moment." He spoke before she could even ask. Octavia just nods and watches as Lincoln crosses his arms, concealing his shaking hands.

"Bellamy will bring Clarke back and then we can all get through this together." She wasn't sure what was bothering Lincoln more or at all, all the dead left in Mount Weather, Lexa abandoning the sky people, Lincoln never being able to return to his village, or something else. She wasn't sure if she should ask. He remained silent and they stood, watching the world fade from orange, to blue, to black. When the moon started to shine through the clouds Octavia rested a hand on Lincoln's arm.

"You should sleep." Octavia's lips curved upwards.

"We both should get some sleep." Lincoln nodded but didn't move. "Hey," She turned his face towards hers. "We're safe here, let's go to bed." She tugged on his arm just enough to make him take a small step, it was all the encouragement he needed to head towards the ark and hopefully a comfortable bed.


	5. The Search

It took a while but Bellamy found Clarke's boot prints in the mud. He followed them until the sun set and he could no longer see anything. He pulled the flashlight from his pack and flipped the switch to turn it on. It immediately sputtered and died. "Really?" He grumbled as he searched his pack for the spare battery he'd grabbed. He found it and switched the batteries out. He flipped the switch again, this time the light stayed on and he found Clarke's trail again. As he followed it he started to ponder what he'd say to her when he found her. Call her an idiot for running off alone maybe, tell her she shouldn't have left camp in the first place, something along those lines.

The trail lead him to the bunker and Bellamy sighed in relief, she'd found shelter. He opened the hatch and called inside. "Clarke? Clarke!" He tucked the flashlight under his arm and started down the ladder. "It's me." No one answered him. The smell hit him then, he stepped off the ladder and covered his nose and mouth with his hand. The light from the flashlight found the decaying corpse of the grounder that had tricked Finn into going to the village in search of Clarke. He looked around, but now that he'd been reminded of the death that happened here he knew Clarke wouldn't be in this place. Light reflected from his flashlight and Bellamy found a pencil and sketch book. He moved towards it and shined the light on it. It was covered in sketches of flowers and one of the two headed deer that Octavia had told him about. The next page had a sketch of Finn. He remembered a while back, Finn had been walking through camp proudly with a pencil in his hand. He'd watched as Finn presented it to Clarke, who had smiled and gotten excited for the first time in ages. These must've been her sketches. He grabbed the book and the pencil and put them both in his pack before climbing out of the bunker and sealing the hatch again.

He searched the ground nearby to see if she had left another trail, but found nothing. Frustrated he headed towards the dropship, hoping that had been her destination. By the time he reached to drop ship the moon was high in the sky. Bellamy called out again, "Clarke, are you here?" Again no one responded to him. He searched the drop ship anyway but found only evidence that a family of small animals had moved in. He kicked the side of the drop ship in anger. Where the hell was she? He wandered away from the shell of what his people had called home in search of any sign of Clarke.

He walked for what must have been at least an hour, finding no sign of her. Bellamy stopped at the nearest tree and leaned against it. His friends had been right, he should never have let her leave. He should've tried harder to convince her to stay. He sunk to the ground. The grass was soft in his hands and he decided to rest. He turned off the flashlight and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He knew that part of him was mad at Clarke. They were supposed to be in this together, but she had left him alone with the guilt of killing all of those people, left him to take care of the last 44 of his people, left him to heal on his own. He was angry about it, but he was more worried about her, and how she was handling everything, if she was okay, if she was alive.

When his eyes adjusted to the light of the moon and stars Bellamy realized it wasn't as hard to see as he first thought. For a moment he thought he saw something glowing and wiped his eyes, he hadn't slept in what felt like days. Upon opening his eyes again the glowing had spread. Even the tree he leaned on was glowing slightly green. He looked closer and realized the light was coming from small plants. Bio-illumination, his mind reminded him of the word. It had a calming effect and he wondered if Clarke was seeing the same thing.

He hoped so.


	6. Four Little Delinquents

You can think of this as a bit of a filler episode I suppose! I wanted to explore what a few of the other characters might be going through after everything that happened in Mnt. Weather. Feel free to share your ideas in the comments. I'd love to know how you guys think they'd react, and as for the characters I didn't touch base on, what do you think they're doing/thinking?

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

Harper found Monty in the corner of one of the last rooms still in one piece on the Ark. He was sitting the darkest corner, his knees pulled up to his chest, eyes vacant. Monty didn't seem to see her, she walked slowly and sat down beside him, then lightly put a hand on his shoulder. He noticed her only when she touched him. When Monty finally looked at her his eyes were rimmed in red. The dirt on his cheeks had been washed away in two streaks, one on each side of his face. He'd been crying. "It's gonna be okay." Harper reassured him quietly.

"How?" Monty breathed. "I killed all those people," He paused. "I killed Maya." Monty's lip started to quiver. "Jasper won't ever forgive me for that." Tears started to fall from his eyes and Harper pulled him into her arms. Monty wrapped his arms tightly around her, sobbing quietly into her shirt.

"Yes he will," She knew he wouldn't believe what she said, but she wanted to at least try to calm him down. "We've all been through a lot, he just needs some time. All of us do." Monty managed a nod and Harper sat there with him, her harms wrapped around his shaking figure, until his breathing steadied and his tears stopped. At some point she fell asleep too.

**xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Murphy paced back and forth in the bunker he'd found. He'd drank enough of what he assumed was very old bourbon to feel tipsy. It worked much faster than Jasper's moonshine, tasted better too. The flat bread looking food had a simple taste, it was almost sweet. He'd eaten four since he watched that video. That video… he didn't really know what to think of it. _A lot of people probably offed themselves when the world fell to shit._ He reasoned as he wandered into the other room, half a glass of bourbon in his hand.

Murphy had heard of pool tables before, but he'd never actually seen one. There wasn't a lot of space for them on the Ark. He put down his drink and shrugged off his jacket, flinching only slightly when the fabric tugged on the wound on his arm. Whatever that thing was that had killed those two guys and taken a bite out of his arm, he'd be glad to never see it again. He grabbed the wooden stick that was leaning against the wall, picked a ball and hit it. The pool balls clacked against one another and the black one sunk into a hole in the corner. Murphy smirked a little to himself. _Story of my life._ He didn't know much about the game, but he did know you saved the black ball for last. Murphy dropped the stick on the table, gulped down the last drink of his bourbon, dropped the glass, went back to the other room, and plopped down on the couch. He closed his eyes and the room spun a little, maybe he'd had a little too much to drink.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

Jasper stared at his goggles. Raven had kept them safe for him, but he wasn't sure if he wanted them anymore. They seemed to belong to a different him, one who hadn't been through hell. At first Jasper had been as excited as anyone to see what the ground had to offer. He was also the first one to almost die because of it. He could still feel the spear in his chest and the pain that had come with it. He'd wiped the goggles clean with his thumbs, and a face looked back at him, but he wasn't sure who it was. The dark brown hair was familiar enough, but the face was covered in blood, the cheeks too hollow to be healthy, and the eyes that reflected back at him seemed dead. Jasper tossed the goggles away.

The Ark felt strange now, it'd been his home for all but a few months of his life, though he no longer recognized it. The lights flickered, and there was a hole the size of his head in the wall, letting the moon and stars shine a little light into the space. The mattress in this room had survived the fall to earth and he collapsed onto it. He begged his mind to not remind him of anything, but he'd never been very lucky. Of course he thought of Maya, _"None of us is innocent." _Her voice was so clear in his head he'd have thought she was in the room with him, but he knew that was wishful thinking, she was dead. He'd had to leave her body in Mount Weather. Though he'd managed to carry her to where her father lay, so they could at least be together.

"Damn it." He muttered as tears started to fall once again. He could've saved them all, he was so close to killing Cage. It would've ended right there, no one else would have had to die. Clarke, Bellamy, and Monty had ruined his chance. If they'd given him another second he could've ended it. Maya and the rest of the innocent people in Mount Weather would be alive. But Monty had reversed the vents, Bellamy and Clarke would've had no idea how to do something like that. Jasper knew Monty well enough to know that he wouldn't have hit that final button, he wouldn't have been able to go through with something like that. Clarke or Bellamy would have done. But Monty had made all those deaths possible, he'd sentenced those people to death, someone else had been the executioner but they were dead because of Monty, Maya was dead because of him. Jasper didn't know if he'd ever be able to forgive Monty, but as of right now, he wasn't even considering it.


	7. The Big, Bad Wolf

Clarke woke to the sound of creaking metal, the car she'd found shelter in seemed to be caving inward slightly. She was on her side, using her arm as a pillow, the red piece of cloth had tangled around her legs in her sleep. She sat up slowly, wondering if her weight had thrown the car off balance somehow. A scraping sound sent shivers down her side and then she heard howling. Clarke's eyes shot up to the window, through the shape of Finn's hand print Clarke made out an animal. A wolf, or at least a _very_ large dog. Its face reminded her of the deer she'd seen with Finn and the others the same day they'd been sent to the ground. Both of its mouths were dripping a combination of blood and drool, all four of its eyes were staring right at her.

Clarke slowly reached for her knife, when it was securely in her hand she unwrapped herself from the blanket and backed up into the corner of the car, as far from the window as she could get. The animal howled again, scratched at the window, and then, without warning, it smacked both of its front paws on the glass. A crack spread like a spider web across the window. It howled once again, somehow Clarke heard triumph in it. This animal was going to kill her, or die trying.

**XXXXXXXX**

Something stirred Bellamy awake, though he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He jumped up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The sun was just rising, but the world around him was bright. He opened a water bottle from his pack and took a drink. As he was putting the container away what sounded like an animal howling made the birds in the trees near him take off. Whatever the animal was, it was close. He automatically headed towards the sound, he knew it wasn't the smartest decision he'd ever made, but if he couldn't find Clarke he could at least take a large meal back to camp. He had his riffle. He could handle whatever was making that horrible sound.

The animal didn't howl again, I didn't have to. Bellamy found it only a couple hundred feet from where he'd fallen asleep. It was slamming its two front paws on the ground, but each time it made contact the sound of glass cracking echoed through the woods. Bellamy shouldered his riffle and aimed, he needed to take it down in one shot. He didn't exactly want that thing charging him. From where he stood the animal looked like a wolf, but was the same size as a bear. He fired only when he knew he wouldn't miss. The bullet hit the animal with such force that it fell and rolled a couple feet away from where it had stood. The sound of gunfire had silenced all the creatures nearby and for a moment the woods were eerily quiet. Then someone started screaming.

Bellamy barely managed to shoulder his riffle as he ran towards the sound. He needed it to be Clarke's voice, he needed her to be okay. The ground creaked when he got to where the animal had been standing. There was a window beneath the grass, the glass was cracked, but somehow it had refused to break. It was stained red from the blood of the wolf, but Bellamy recognized it as a car window. The screaming had stopped but it had come from inside of the car. He knelt down and used his sleeve to wipe away the blood so he could look inside. He saw a flash of blonde hair and in only what seemed like the blink of an eye he'd opened the door and dropped down into the vehicle.

It took his eyes a moment to find her, she was tucked into the corner, her head in her hands. She was rocking herself back and forth. "Clarke?" He spoke quietly, but her head snapped up. Her eyes were wide but she seemed to be looking through him. Bellamy tentatively reached his arm out towards her. He'd forgotten about the blood that was now covering his arm and while Clarke hadn't seemed to recognize him, she hadn't forgotten what blood looked like. Her head began to rapidly shake back and forth.

"No! No more blood!" She mumbled before shutting her eyes tightly and covering her face again. Bellamy cursed internally, Lincoln had been right, Clarke really wasn't okay. He took a knife from his pocket and cut into the shirt, he tore the blood stained fabric from the rest of the shirt and threw it out of the vehicle, shutting the door as an afterthought. He wiped the blood off of his skin the best he could before approaching Clarke again. She was still crouched in the corner, concealing her face with her arms. Bellamy kneeled in front of her, carefully and gently placing his hand on her knee.

After a moment Clarke looked up, her eyes were rimmed in red and tears streamed down her cheeks. "There's so much blood." She whispered. Bellamy wasn't sure if she even saw him, but he could see her clear as day. It hurt him to see her in so much pain, he made a promise to himself to help her through this as best he could.

"I know, Clarke." He replied to her. "You aren't alone anymore, I'm here with you." Clarke blinked a few times, the vacantness in her eyes fading by the second. She stared at his hand on her knee for a while, but slowly her eyes traveled up the length of his arm to his shoulder, to his neck, to his face.

"Bellamy?" She finally recognized him.

He tried to smile. "Of course it's me, who else would chase you out in the woods in the middle of the night?"

She launched towards him, her arms stretched outward. When her body smacked into his the two of them fell backwards, Bellamy didn't care. Clarke's arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck that he almost struggled to breathe, it didn't even occur to him to complain. He wrapped his arms equally as tight around her.

They'd only hugged two other times, and though this one was far more desperate than the other two had been he couldn't help but notice the similarities. Each hug was before or following the two of them separating. The first hug Bellamy had thought Clarke was dead, and he had the feeling she didn't think he'd survived either. The second hug hadn't been that long ago, in her own way she had said goodbye. Bellamy was never the first to let go either, and this hug would be no different.

"I didn't think you'd come after me." Clarke rasped.

_I almost didn't. _Bellamy's mind reminded him._ I almost left you out here all alone when you obviously aren't okay. _He made a mental note to both apologize for being an ass and thank Lincoln for giving him the push he needed.

"I'm just glad you're safe." Bellamy almost said "okay", but he knew she wasn't. Not emotionally at least. Mentally she barely seemed to be holding herself together. After everything they'd been through he shouldn't have been so surprised to see her like this, but Clarke had always seemed so strong. She'd always been able to do the things he couldn't, at least in the beginning. Atom's face came to mind, the acid fog had burned him nearly beyond recognition and his irises had turned white. He'd begged for death, but Bellamy hadn't been able to kill him, even knowing how much pain he must've been in. It was Clarke, with nothing but a knife, a soft hum, and gentle strokes of his hair that had ended Atom's pain.

Bellamy's mind came back to the present and Clarke was still clinging desperately to him. He was still holding her close, but at some point he had started stroking her hair.


	8. As the World Spins

Octavia had fallen asleep next to Lincoln in what remained of a twin sized bed inside the shell of what used to be the Ark. It wouldn't have been so bad if Lincoln hadn't been tossing and turning for half the night. She was about to wake him when he suddenly bolted upright and looked around the room frantically. Octavia reached out and touched his arm.

"Lincoln? Are you okay?" He seemed to sigh in relief when his eyes met hers in the early morning light.

"Just a bad dream." He put his hand over hers.

"What about?" Octavia's question was innocent enough, but Lincoln didn't answer her. She tried to offer a reassuring smile, but it didn't feel right on her lips so she shook her head instead. "You don't have to tell me. We've been through a lot of shit." She turned her palm face up so she could hold his hand. It was wet with sweat and shaking slightly. "You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?" She asked as she sat up next to him.

"I know," Lincoln offered that small smile Octavia had come to love. "It was just a bad dream. I'm fine." He pulled his hand from hers and got out of the bed. He walked towards the door and over his shoulder said, "I'll be right back," As he walked out of sight.

Octavia may have lived under the floor for most of her life, but she wasn't naïve. Lincoln was hiding something from her. Something else was bothering her too though, when had she forgotten how it felt to smile?

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Lincoln rubbed his damp palms on his pants as he walked, he needed fresh air and he wanted to wash the sweat off of his face. He felt awful, his body ached and his hands refused to stop shaking. He also constantly felt like he was going to vomit. Lincoln had gotten sick a few times before, but it was nothing like this.

When he stepped out into the open and the cool air hit him his stomach stopped churning and the pounding in his head lessened just slightly. He sighed in relief. He needed to find the cure for whatever sickness it was that was plaguing him. He rubbed his face as he walked and accidentally bumped into something.

"Oh, sorry." A voice said. Someone, Lincoln corrected himself.

"It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Lincoln tried to focus on the person in front of him, but his vision was blurring. All he could identify was dark skin, darker hair and facial hair to match. "Excuse me." He walked past the young man, but stumbled after a few steps.

"Hey, are you alright?" Lincoln looked over his shoulder, bad idea. Turning his head so quickly made the world spin. He fell. He heard steps before he felt a hand on his arm. "Someone get Abby or Jackson!" Lincoln's eyes focus for a moment and he recognizes the young man as Miller, one of the people who tortured him upon being captured, he also remembered head butting him. The memory of being beaten by a group of teenagers is not a fond one, and in reflex Lincoln throws a punch. He misses by several inches, but Miller moves away from him. "The fuck did you do that for?"

"What's going on?" Another voice, this one male as well, Lincoln doesn't recognize it.

"He was walking and fell over, and for whatever damn reason he decided to try and punch me in the face." Lincoln tried to sit up, but everything was spinning. His stomach lurched and the last meal he'd eaten made its way back up his throat and out of his mouth. Lincoln didn't even have a chance to wipe what was left off of his chin before the world went black.


	9. Our World Stops

She had no idea how long they'd been sitting like that, but when Clarke finally pulls away from Bellamy she does so reluctantly and he doesn't seem to want to let her go either. When she had turned her back on him and the rest of her people she had no intention of returning, at least not for a while. Part of her was so relieved Bellamy had found her, but the other part was angry with him. She'd left so she could be alone, cope with everything that had happened since she stepped off the dropship that first time. She was starting to feel like anyone who got too close to her was going to end up dead. It sounded so cliché, but it was dangerous on the ground, and so far had been proven true by Wells and Finn.

"You should go back," Clarke's voice breaks the silence. If she was right and anyone close enough to her was in danger, she needed Bellamy to be as far away from her as possible. She couldn't lose anyone else. She wouldn't survive it. "You need to go back to camp."

"I am going back, we both are."

"I can't," Clarke looks away from Bellamy's eyes and stares at her hands instead. "I told you, I can't face them. It'll just remind me of what I've done."

"Why do you keep trying to take all the responsibility for everything that's happened?" Bellamy raises his voice but Clarke doesn't look away from her hands, she busily scrapes the dirt off of her fingers with her nails. "I was there with you the whole time. You have never been alone in this!" Bellamy takes her hands in his, forcing her to quit fidgeting. "Why don't you get that?" Clarke just shakes her head.

"I just can't." She whispers.

"Then I'm staying with you." Clarke looks up, her mouth opened slightly to start protesting, but Bellamy isn't finished talking yet. "We are not splitting up again, Clarke." His grip tightens on her hands. "Have you not realized that bad things happen every time the two of us get separated?" She opened her mouth again to argue with that, but she stopped. He was right.

When Clarke had shut the door to the dropship with Bellamy still trapped outside she was sure he was dead. She remembered stepping out of the confined space and out onto ashes and what was left of bones and flesh, praying silently that none of it belonged to Bellamy. That was when the mountain men had kidnapped her people. But Clarke had escaped and found Bellamy alive, only to send him into the horrible place that she had just ran from. After that everything had gone downhill, fast. Clarke refused to think too hard about it, she wasn't going to start crying again. She'd been silent for a long time when Bellamy spoke again.

"Besides, you can't make me leave. I'm bigger than you." Clarke looks up and sees that trademark lopsided grin and she nearly falls apart again. Over the past couple weeks she had been so worried that she would never see that smile again. It had kept her up at night and distracted her during the day, but here it was, that perfect smile only a foot away.

"Okay," Clarke manages to say. "Okay."

"Good." Bellamy releases her hands and grabs his pack. "You hungry? Thirsty?" Clarke just nods. He hands her a ration and a bottle of water. She drinks half of the bottle in one gulp, she didn't even realize how parched she was. Bellamy takes another ration pack out for himself and the two of them eat in silence.

Clarke watches him out of the corner of her eye as he very obviously pretends not to be doing the same thing. Clarke allows herself to wonder how Bellamy is handling everything that's happened to them. He seems to be in better shape than she was last night. They finish their rations at the same time and Clarke takes another drink from the water bottle, a smaller one this time, before handing it to Bellamy. He takes it and drinks half of what's left.

"This is all I brought for water, we'll have to go to the waterfall that's near here to get more. Unless you've changed your mind and want to go back to camp." Clarke gives Bellamy a look and he smiles at her once again. "Waterfall it is."

Thinking of that waterfall brings Finn to Clarke's mind, the time they'd saw it. She'd stopped for water but Finn had had other plans. He'd splashed her and pulled her into the water with him, smiling happily the entire time. Clarke had felt weightless in the water, even though they were supposed to be searching for Jasper her body relaxed in it. In Clarke's mind the water quickly turned red and Finn's smiling face faded into the terrifying stare that had haunted her since his death, since she killed him.

"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice pulls Clarke from the horrifying vision. "Maybe you should get some fresh air." Clarke manages to nod. Bellamy stands and offers her his hand, Clarke takes it and he helps her to her feet. Bellamy stops just under the door. "Wait here a minute before you come out okay?" She nods before Bellamy adjusts his riffle, opens the door, and pulls himself out of the vehicle. He leaves the door open and after a moment Clarke hears what sounds like something heavy being dragged across the ground. She's tempted to look, but Bellamy told her not to come out, he wouldn't tell her that unless he knew she shouldn't see what was out there. She tries to distract herself by looking around the inside of the car, but there's not much more than dust. She grabs Bellamy's pack and the water bottle. She opens the pack to drop the bottle insides and sees a sketchbook and pencil. He must have grabbed them for her. She closes the pack and puts the strap over her shoulder.

Bellamy reappears in the doorway and extends his hand to help her out of the car. Clarke hadn't taken into account the seats had helped her get in and out of the car, she'd been too busy trying to make herself more comfortable to give it a second thought. She takes Bellamy's hand and he pulls her out of the vehicle. The memory of the grounder pit she'd almost fallen into comes to mind. Bellamy had pulled her out of that as well. She remembered being scared then, because of the things she'd heard him say about getting her wristband off, she thought he'd let her fall to her death. Knowing him the way she did now, she knew she'd never been in danger of that. But it wasn't until she found him kneeling beside Atom, who was begging Bellamy to end his pain that she realized he never would have been able to let her fall. He put on a tough face, but he wasn't able to hurt anyone, at least in the beginning. She'd never seen him kill anyone, but that didn't mean he hadn't. _How many people have I killed in front of him?_ She wondered.


	10. Battle Scars

When a nightmare wakes Murphy he bolts upright, which causes his head to spin. He'd forgotten about the bourbon. He stumbles to the trashcan and empties the contents of his stomach, the only thing in it besides bourbon is the bread. It doesn't taste sweet a second time. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes to the fridge. The smell of rotten food almost makes him puke again, but he finds a bottle of water, shuts the door, and drinks the whole thing in three gulps. When his head stops throbbing his arm starts. He glances at the mess of torn skin that is his arm. _I should probably clean that._ Murphy thinks as he tosses the empty bottle in the sink and starts his search for a first aid kit.

The bunker is much bigger than he first thought. Through the kitchen a door leads to a hallway, which leads to more doors. Behind the first he finds a large bedroom with the biggest bed he's ever seen. Beside the bed is a dresser. He picks through it, finding himself a T-shirt and jeans that don't have holes all over them. "Well that's a first." He says aloud. Everything anyone on the ark ever had in his generation had been used for about ninety years. Murphy keeps digging through the draws and finds a pack of underwear still in the package. He rips it open and pulls a pair out.

As he wanders around he starts shedding his clothes, carefully avoiding the gash in his arm, but dropping the dirty clothes where they fall. He opens a door in the bedroom and finds a large bathroom, complete with deep tub and separate shower. He shrugs and turns the knob in the shower, he doesn't have much hope, but water spills from the shower head. "Oh hell yes!" He finishes undressing and jumps in.

The feeling of warm water cascading over his skin for the first time in weeks makes Murphy sigh in relief. Water comes from the shower head warm and clear, but by the time it hits the drain it's a combination of dirt and blood. Murphy watches the red/brown mixture swirl at his feet until it's nearly clear again. He lets water wash over his arm wound but wraps it in a rag before using the soap he finds to wash away the rest of the evidence of his time on the ground. He lets the water turn cold and his hands get wrinkly before getting out. Showers on the ark had been kept to a strict time limit to conserve water. It had easily been the best shower he'd ever had. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before heading back to the bedroom to put on the clothes he'd picked out.

Murphy's reflection catches his eye and his feet stop moving him forward. The water had washed away all the grime and dried blood on his body, all that remained was pale skin sprinkled with bruises of varying colors and sizes, fresh wounds, and scars. He'd paid enough attention in his classes to know that when the grounders had tortured him for information they'd avoided all his critical organs, at least with knives. Murphy's fingers skimmed over the burn scars on his chest. The skin was raised slightly, but smooth to the touch. The scars were in the shape of circles, a dozen of them, no bigger than his thumb, they covered the skin over his heart. The knife wounds were still there, healing but not quite gone. They covered nearly every inch of him and he wondered if they all would become scars eventually. Thinking back, he wasn't sure how he'd survived three days of torture. The cutting had been bad, the burning was worse, but having his fingernails peeled back had been excruciating. Though, it wasn't until they'd tied the rope around his neck that Murphy had broken. He could still feel the tightness of it in his throat. He shakes his head of the memories and walks away from his reflection.

Murphy puts on the clothes quickly and scrubs his head with the towel to dry his hair. He leaves the towel on the floor and goes back into the bathroom to look for something to use on his arm. Under the sink he finds a plastic, red box. He sits it on the sink, opens it, and finds every size bandage you could ever need, some ointments, and a brown bottle with a white lid. He examines the contents of the box. "Never thought I'd wish for Clarke's company." He had no idea what any of these things actually did. It wasn't like his mother had been the "kiss it and make it better" type. Murphy doesn't let his mind focus on the memories of his parents. Instead he starts reading packaging.

After reading what words he could understand on the bottles and tubes of cream Murphy takes the brown bottle, untwists the cap, and pours it over the gash on his arm, letting the liquid drip into the sink. For a second he doesn't thinking anything is actually happening, but then it starts to sting and white foam forms over his cut. "Son of a bitch." He mutters. As far as pain goes it's nothing compared to what he's gone through, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. When the foam stops he pats it dry with another towel and does his best to wrap it in a bandage. He examines his work, it's not pretty, but it's not falling off. "Clarke would be so proud." He laughs to himself and leaves everything on the sink before returning to wandering around the bunker.


	11. The Drowning Pool

The first thing Bellamy does upon seeing the waterfall is remove his shoes and pull of his shirt. "What are you doing?" Clarke asks from behind him. He looks back at her and sees that she's gripping the strap of the pack so tight her knuckles are white. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line and her eyes were narrowed just slightly.

"Just thought I'd wash off." He answers. "Want to join me?" Clarke shakes her head and takes a seat on a large, flat rock nearby. "It'll just take a minute." He says to her as he pulls off his socks and removes his jeans. Clarke doesn't respond as Bellamy moves towards the small pool of water, wearing only his boxers.

Bellamy tenses when his foot hits the water, it's colder than he'd thought it would be. He hurries in, trying to act like the coolness of the water isn't giving him goosebumps. When it's up to his chest Bellamy plugs his nose and lowers himself until the top of his head is covered. He comes back up, unplugging his nose a second too soon. Water rushes into his nose and mouth, he chokes on it, more water streams down his face and his eyes refuse to open. Suddenly he's back at Mount Weather, his flesh being burned with impossibly hot water, his body scrubbed by brushes that somehow manage to make the water even more painful. The shackles are around his neck, hands, and feet again. Needles plunge into his arm and a pill that makes the world spin is shot down his throat. He thrashes, but water still burns his throat, he can't stop coughing. Had he imagined escaping? Had Maya ever released him from his shackles? Had Clarke ever come to save him and the rest of their people? It had all been a hallucination, probably caused by the drugs they shot into his system before hanging him upside down and using him as a blood bag.

"Bellamy!" The memory of Clarke's voice echoes in his mind. For a moment he's relieved, she didn't have to see him like this. He feels the pressure of a needle on his arm and tries to fight back. His elbow connects with something. "Bellamy!" Clarke's voice is there again, louder this time. Hands touch his face and the water suddenly stops streaming down it. He coughs his lungs clear of water and opens his eyes.

Clarke is looking up at him, her eyes wide with either concern or fear, maybe both. Her hands are still on his cheeks, but Bellamy is staring at the red spot under her right eye. "Clarke?" He looks around them. The waterfall, it had all been in his head. His mind had pulled him to a dark place, just because a little water went down his throat the wrong way. Clarke pulls his eyes gaze back to her and the quickly forming bruise under her eye. It must've been her face his elbow had hit.

"Are you okay?" He can hear the panic in Clarke's voice. Bellamy almost laughs, not even a day ago he strangled a man- no, a father, with his bare hands, shot and killed several others and pulled the lever that killed more innocent people than he could count. Before then he'd gotten hundreds of people on the Ark killed to save what little oxygen they had left. If he hadn't tried to get everyone on the ground to remove their wristbands the people on the Ark would've known the ground was survivable. His advice to Charlotte had gotten her and Wells killed. Bellamy looks at Clarke, a few hours ago she'd been falling apart at the sight of blood. Here he was, nearly drowning and having a panic attack in five feet of water. Neither of them was okay. Maybe they would never be.

"I'm fine." After a moment Clarke let her hands fall from his face and Bellamy noticed that she was still in her clothes, which were now soaked. She'd come running into the water to help him without a second thought. "You got your clothes wet." Clarke glanced down at herself. The water just barely touched the tips of her hair, but she was soaked. She gave Bellamy a long look before heading back to the shore. He doesn't move until she glances over her shoulder at him and stops moving forward.

"I think you washed off enough," She inclines her head towards the shore where Bellamy's dry clothes lay in a pile. Neither of them moves for a few moments and Bellamy can't help but wonder what she's thinking. He finally forcing his feet forward, but the water fights him at every step, slowing his pace. When he's finally beside her Clarke continues walking, though he can see her watching him out of the corner of his eye.

As soon as she's on the gravel Clarke pulls off the soaking wet coat, and then her long sleeve shirt which twists it over and over until water stops dripping from it. She leaves her undershirt on but wrings that out as well. Bellamy sits on a rock near where she dropped their pack and watches as she tugs off her boots, tilting them upside down and watching water pour out. Socks and jeans follow suit and she lays everything on a not so flat rock to dry in the sun's rays. She sits next to Bellamy and he offers her his borrowed over shirt. The right sleeve had been cut off, but the breeze was too cool to be sitting in nothing but a damp tee shirt. Clarke takes it and nods her thanks, when she puts it on Bellamy can't help but realize how it looks on her. Not only was it missing a sleeve, but it was a bit large on him, on her it was nearly a dress. He turns away and smiles to himself. It was kind of cute.

They sit silently for a while, watching the water crash against rocks and listening to the calming sounds of the waterfall. "What happened to you in Mount Weather?" When Bellamy looks at Clarke she's already watching him carefully. So much happened while he was there he wouldn't know where to start, so he sticks to silence instead. Clarke doesn't push him to answer. Instead she takes the sketchbook and pencil from the pack. Bellamy can't help but notice that she opens it to the last page. Clarke starts busily moving her pencil across the page. Bellamy is tempted to watch over her shoulder, but settles with listening to the sound of graphite scrapping on paper and watching the clouds.

Time passes quickly and once Bellamy's boxers are dry he puts on the rest of his clothing, minus the shirt Clarke is wearing. Her clothes are still slightly damp but she puts the book away and slides into her jeans. Bellamy walks to the water while Clarke finishes putting on her boots and fills the bottle. He'll have to figure out another way to get water. He ponders going back to camp for more supplies, but one look at Clarke and her fidgeting hands tells him that's not a good idea. She may seem aright, but she's one bad thing away from taking off again. Though he doesn't really have the right to say anything about her not being okay after what happened to him in the water. Turns out he was just as messed up about their time on the ground as she was. But who could blame them?


End file.
